


Professor Fullmetal

by madzeldacryaotic



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Autistic Character, BAMF Ed, Background Relationships, Crack Treated Seriously, Ed Swears a Lot, Ed adopts 18 kids, Ed becomes a teacher, Ed still looses his alchemy, F/M, Gen, Minor Angst, Post-Canon, alchemy shit that i may or may not make up, but also Soft Ed, not ship-centric, timeline is a bit wonky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-03-21 02:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13731387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madzeldacryaotic/pseuds/madzeldacryaotic
Summary: After the birth of his son, Ed chooses to delay his alchemy research and stay put for a few years.He gets restless after a few months.The solution? Teaching Advanced Alchemical Theory to college kids.It goes better than one would expect.





	1. First Day, Pt 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyyyy so this fic is based off a tumblr post that I have been trying to find for quite literally a week now so I can credit it. No luck. I wanted to wait until I found it, but I got impatient, so here. If anyone knows the post I'm referring to, please hmu.
> 
> As always, please give feedback~

"Ed?”

"Yeah?"

"Ed."

"Yeah?"

" _Edward_ ." 

" _WHAT_."

"You're going to be late if you don't stop messing with your tie."

Edward picked at the stubborn knot in his tie one last time before he huffed and dropped his hands to his sides, scowling at his reflection in the (somewhat dusty) floor-length mirror. From her place leaning against the doorway of their bedroom, Winry hid a smile behind her hand. Ed would never admit it, but she could tell he was nervous, and she found it _terribly_ endearing.  
  
He had been preparing for this day for months now, and his sudden fussing over his wardrobe this morning showed it. He had settled eventually on what he called a “formal” outfit; a pressed white shirt with a black tie and vest, black slacks, and his long brown coat. Basically, his normal travel clothes with the addition of a tie.

Winry let out a sigh that was supposed to be exasperated, but ended up being more fond than anything else.  
  
"Stop worrying, you look fine. In fact, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you look like a gentleman."

“A gentleman? Oh, how _dare_ you,” Edward deadpanned.  
  
She hid another smile. In her opinion, 'fine' was an understatement. In the soft morning sunlight, his long hair shined liquid gold. His eyes were equally as bright when he turned to look into her own. Because he was lightly scowling, it wasn't hard to see the faint lines of age around his eyes and mouth that only served to make him look more wise and alluring. Winry's heart fluttered in her chest.  
  
Winry would never admit it out loud to him (because lord knows he doesn't need an ego boost), but in this moment, he looked breathtakingly handsome.

"You look like an old man," she teased.  
  
Ed scoffed at her as if he was offended, but was betrayed by the small smile cracking his scowl. He turned back to the mirror, looking contemplative. A beat of comfortable silence passed in which the only noise was the soft chirping of birds and a distant wind chime. Particles of dust, visible because of the bright rays of sunlight, swirled slowly in the air.

Ed hummed quietly.  
  
"I look like  _my_ old man."  
  
His smile returned, but this time it was twinged with sadness. Although Ed never talked about the death of his father, Winry could tell he felt the loss sometimes. It crept up on him like an old wound; a familiar ache that dulls into the background unless you focus on it. Her heart sunk in sympathy.

She pushed off against the doorway and crossed the room to hug him from behind. She buried her face into the space between his shoulder blades and breathed in the scent of his coat, trying to convey as much love as possible into her voice when she said,  
  
"He would be _so_ proud of you, Ed. I know I am."  
  
He hummed in response and rested his hands over hers, expressing gentle gratitude. They stood in an embrace, enjoying each other's comfort and the warm morning sun at their backs.

Lucas chose that moment to loudly announce his discomfort from his nursery down the hall. Winry laughed and stepped away from Ed.

“I had better go tend to the drama king.”

Ed turned around to face her while whining, “I thought _I_ was the drama king.”

Winry's eyebrows shot up. “Where do you think he gets it from? He takes after you.” She gestured to his mussed clothing with a smirk.

Ed’s face scrunched in irritation and his hands rose to tug at his tie yet again. “Oh come on. It's not _that_ bad, is it?” His nerves were back.

“No, its not. You look pretty nice, actually,” Winry assured, speaking softly to convey her sincerity. Ed relaxed minutely as he turned back to the mirror with a flourish.

“I still think I'm going to ditch the tie, though,” He announced.

“If you want to.”

Lucas cried out loudly again, protesting at being ignored. Winry sighed, then stepped toward Ed and rose to her tiptoes to kiss his cheek before leaving the room to tend to Lucas.

From the hallway, she called out behind her, “Have a good day, and _please_ don't scare the students too much.”

“I can't do both!” Ed replied cheekily.

Her laugh rang through the hall joyfully.

 

* * *

 

Edward yawned. Again.

He thought that his nerves would be enough to distract him from the ungodly hour of the morning. But the instant he sat down on the train to East City he felt lethargy creeping up on him. He cursed his past self for thinking that a morning class would be more efficient. The prospect of waking up so early looked good on paper. But in reality, it fucking _sucked._

He longed for another coffee. His first one had gone lukewarm almost ten minutes ago.

He sighed and checked his watch. Sluggishly, he realized they were less than five minutes out. He felt his lethargy bleed out of him and quickly be replaced by the light anxiety that had been his companion for the past few days.

Not for the first time, he questioned if he was _actually_ doing this. _Him_. A teacher. In a fancy college. No, not a teacher, a _professor_. In a fancy college. Teaching snot-nosed brats about alchemy when he himself couldn't transmute a single hairpin to save his life. _In a fancy college_.

He mentally retraced the events leading to this, trying to make sense of it.

He and Winry had just settled down into a routine after the craziness of having a baby. In the days leading up to the birth, Ed had still been jet lagged from traveling back and forth from Drachma and Creta, acting as a representative of the Amerstrian government and neutral third-party official negotiating terms of an updated alliance pledge between the two countries. Ed had originally been in the area for alchemy research purposes only, but at Mustang’s request (aka order), he donned his Official Diplomat CoatTM and got to work diplomatting. The disputes during the meetings ran longer than originally expected. Like, _several weeks_ longer than expected. Ed had nearly missed his own son’s birth as a result.

If that had been the case, Ed was pretty sure he would have marched right into Mustang’s office and strangled him on the spot, Führer or no. And then Winry would be a widow, because Hawkeye would (naturally) want to avenge her husband and leader, and _no one_ who Hawkeye wants to kill has any semblance of hope left to live, of course.

Anyway, they had settled into a routine for the past six months Ed had been home, and he had started growing restless. He was unaccustomed to staying in one place for so long. Not to say that he didn’t enjoy spending time with his family- because he did, he enjoyed every second of Winry’s loving banter and Lucas’ boundless energy- but he needed a change. He adores Winry and Lucas to the ends of the earth, but he was going to go crazy if he didn’t have anything to do.

(Taking another extended trip was out of the question. On the day she told him she was pregnant, Ed made a promise to Winry and to himself that he would stay put for a couple years after the baby was born. He refused to miss out on his child’s first few years of life. Travel could wait.)

Winry had urged him to find a hobby and insisted that _no, Ed, alchemy research does not count!_

He had tried, really, but his interest always turned back to alchemy.

That’s when _Mustang_ , of all people, offhandedly suggested a teaching job at the newly-built East City University when he and Hawkeye visited them for dinner (which was a _thing_ they started to do pretty regularly, much to Ed’s mostly fake exasperation).

Ed had laughed before he remembered that Mustang wasn't capable of being funny, and therefore realized it wasn’t a joke. He was completely serious. And judging by the look Hawkeye- _Riza_ , he still has trouble addressing her as Riza- gave Winry, the three of them had discussed this behind his back.

Mustang elaborated that the class in question was Advanced Alchemical _Theory_ , and therefore little to no transmutation would be required of the professor.

Riza pointed out how Ed was suited perfectly for teaching future state alchemists because of his alchemical, military, and diplomatic backgrounds.

Winry then added that this could be a learning opportunity for him in regards to his hesitancy towards children, and in turn, provide experience that he could use for being a better father to his son.

Ed stayed silent through their points. They changed the subject to something more ~~boring~~  mundane shortly afterwards, but Ed still stayed silent. In truth, he was blindsided by the idea.

Him, _Teaching_. His gut reaction was to reject the notion, but it stayed with him for days afterwards. The more he thought about it, the less it made sense in the context of his personality, and the more compelling the idea became.

Because, deep down, Edward is an alchemy nut- and while he’ll always have researching, it’s hardly the most rewarding aspect of alchemy. But teaching... Teaching can be a medium through which his research and experience can be _shared_. He could _see_ it being used to make a difference. He could have a say in guiding future alchemists to be _better_.

Four days later, while he was feeding a sleepy Lucas wrapped in his arms and Winry worked on some automail something-or-other, he realized suddenly that he wanted that. He wanted to teach alchemy. He announced it to Winry then and there. She was overjoyed.

Then came the relatively quick process of getting a teacher’s license and the other necessary credentials. It went by _much_ faster than usual, and Ed was certain it was because 1) the University was desperate to get _the_ national celebrity Edward Elric on their teaching staff, and 2) Mustang pulled some strings. The University was bending over backwards to accommodate his every need, assuring him that he will have every possible resource available. He was even allowed to choose the class size (small, he doesn’t want to have to fight for control over the students) as well as majorly change the curriculum to fit his liking (which he takes full advantage of and makes the class material more internationally focused, and in his opinion, _much_ less boring). Just a few advantages of being the savior of, like, the whole world.

Also at his request, they changed his name in the paperwork to Edward Rockbell so he knows that the students signing up for his class are there for the _class_ , not for his celebrity status.

So, that was that. It was all arranged, and he had a pretty good idea what he was doing.

However, some part of his shitty mind didn’t seem to get with the program. There he was, sitting on the train to East City, holding a lukewarm coffee and practically shaking with nerves. All while second guessing everything he’s done in the past few months.

Distantly, he heard the conductor announce their arrival and felt the train screech to a halt. Passengers all around him began to collect their bags and exit, and the noise turned into a dull roar in Ed’s ears.

He took a deep breath, and then another. He stood up swiftly, willing his confidence to return.

He could do this.

He survived crossing through the gate and facing Truth multiple times.

He became the youngest state alchemist in the nation’s history.

He helped overthrow a corrupt government conceived and run by powerful homunculi.

He punched _God_ in the _face_ and saved the world.

He could do this.


	2. First Day, Pt 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative chapter titles:
> 
> Edward Extra™ Elric  
> Aesthetic or Death  
> Everything Ed Does is a Power Move  
> Local Drama King Defends His Title, More At 6  
> I'm Not Great At Lengthy Descriptions of Classrooms

The classroom was filled with quiet chatter as some of the students socialized before class began. Many were still trickling in, each one pausing at the door in the back of the room to take stock of the seats available and decide where to sit. Soon, all 18 seats had an occupant.  

The class was set up like a small lecture hall, with three levels leading down to the front of the room where the teacher’s table sat in front of a chalkboard that spanned the majority of the wall. Instead of desks, there were three long tables on either side of the room, one per level, all facing forward (perpendicular to the wall), with a path separating them in the middle. Three students sat at each desk.

Along the left wall, two large windows filled the room with natural sunlight, rendering the electric lights obsolete. The floors and walls were panelled with dark colored wood, giving the room an appearance more akin to a cozy private study than a classroom. This aesthetic was only enhanced by the large alchemy and history books arranged against every spare section of wall.

Overall, it was a comfortable room, and the students waited (for the most part) patiently for their professor to arrive. Some were eager, sitting up straight in the front two tables, pencil or pen already in hand. Others lounged more casually in the back and middle, either socializing or observing. 

They waited. 

9 o’clock came and passed. 

Conversations died down to whispers. Many students fidgeted in their seats, checking the time and looking towards the door. 

9:08.

One of the louder students started a conversation with their friend about how this didn’t bode well for the rest of the year-long class if their professor was careless enough to be late the first day (if he even showed up at all). A student from the front shushed them and they fell silent.

They waited. 

At  _ exactly _ 9:10, the door in the back of the room crashed open, violently startling several people. All eyes whipped to the source of the commotion, and many had trouble processing what they were seeing.

A man stood with his leg still extended from _kicking_ _open_ the door, one hand casually resting in his pocket and the other holding the bag slung over his shoulder. 

He paused in that position. The classroom was dead silent. The tension in the air was so thick, you would need a knife to cut it. No one dared to even  _ breathe _ . 

After he was certain that he had everyone’s attention, he started casually walking to the front of the room. Completely at ease, as if he had  _ not _ almost kicked the door off its hinges just three seconds prior.

The students gawked.

The first noticeable trait he possessed was long, gold colored hair pulled back in a ponytail, save for some long bangs. The second was that his eyes were the exact same unusual shade of gold as his hair. 

He was dressed professionally, with a large brown overcoat that, at first glance, masked his muscular build. The wrinkled collar of his white shirt (top button undone), along with some stray hairs sticking up from his (already unruly) bangs, gave him a youthful, rebellious look. 

No one knew how to react.

Once he reached the front desk, he set his bag down on it. The noise it made seemed like a  _ gunshot _ after the long period of shocked silence, and a few students jumped in their seats again.

Ed turned and faced his students, eyeing them up for a few more seconds. A few squirmed under his gaze.  _ Finally _ , he spoke.

“My name is Edward Elric, and I’m here to teach you little bastards how to alchemy.” 

There was, once again, stunned silence. Then, his words registered.  
  


_ The whole damn class lost their collective shit. _

  
The class was in chaos- several people were practically leaping from their seats. A few were just sitting in dumb shock. Tables threatened to flip over. Yelling filled the room, and Ed was pretty sure he saw a book go flying through the air.

Edward stood at the front of all of the yelling, the questions, the exclamations… 

...And tried his hardest not to laugh his ass off. He was largely unsuccessful. 

This, right here, was worth all the theatrics in the  _ world _ . 

He was doubled over, struggling to  _ breathe _ he was laughing so hard, supporting himself with one hand on the desk and the other pressed to his stomach. He was  _ wheezing _ , goddammit. So much for the intimidating persona. 

Ed eventually composed himself enough to hold his hand, palm-out, in a ‘stop’ gesture. The students quieted as he wiped at his joyful tears with his other hand.

“Wow, that was awesome. Okay, uh… welcome to Advanced Alchemical Theory, you can call me Professor Elric.” 

An  _ urgently _ enthusiastic hand shot up from the front row on his left and caught his attention. He nodded towards the dark-haired young man to speak, and to Ed’s surprise, he stood up swiftly, words tumbling from his mouth,

“Professor Elric, if I may ask, why is your name listed as ‘Rockbell’ in the registry, and why would an esteemed…  _ Person _ such as yourself choose to teach a university alchemy course in the first place?”

Ed was taken back at both the kid’s precise articulation as well as his forthrightness. Interestingly, he had a slight accent, and a closer look at his complexion showed he was Xingese. Or, at least, part Xingese. Ed mentally filed away that information for future reference so he could tell Al.

The kid evidently took Ed’s surprised silence as offence, because he quickly flushed and stuttered, “Ah, forgive me- You have- I- I should not have asked about such a personal-”

“No, it’s okay- I was just surprised, is all,” Ed gently interrupted. When he looked unconvinced, he assured, “Really. It’s okay.” The kid relaxed and sat back down when Ed motioned for him to.

“To answer your first question, I didn’t want people to, uh… Take this class for the wrong reasons, so I borrowed Win- I borrowed my wife’s last name. And I decided to teach because… Well, I wanted to share what I know. About alchemy, that is,” Ed finished lamely. He felt a little foolish in front of the earnest stares he was receiving.

His light embarrassment faded into surprise when, as soon as he was finished with his explanation,  _ every single one _ of the other students’ hands shot up. 

“Alright, alright, calm down. Here's the deal- I’ll answer  _ only two _ more before moving on to actual teaching shit. So make them good,” Ed warned, then cringed a little at his instinctive cussing. No one seemed to react to his language, however, so he moved on, pointing towards a kid in the back row.

“How do we  _ know _ you're the Fullmetal Alchemist!?”

Her friend sitting next to her gasped, disapproving of her rudeness. 

Ed laughed, to the surprise of the students. Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver pocket watch: the unmistakable sign of a state alchemist. He held it up and said,

“Well, first of all, I have this. And while I’m not a state alchemist anymore, they let me keep it.” Ed paused, and to the confusion of many, knelt down and took off his shoe. “Also, automail,” He gestured. Sure enough, in place of his foot there was a metal limb. In shined dully in the sunlight.

The students gawked even further. 

The girl sitting next to the original questioner blurted out, “But the Fullmetal Alchemist is supposed to have an automail arm, too!”

Ed opened his mouth to answer, but he was beat by another student who turned to address her.

“Everyone knows that he used his alchemy to get back his real arm on the promised day! Have you even  _ heard _ the stories!?” 

Another student quickly chimed in, “You can't use alchemy to transmute a lost limb back into existence, don't be ridiculous.” 

A different student added, “But I heard that Edward Elric was almost seven feet tall and had muscles that put the Armstrong family to shame!” 

“People say he singlehandedly took down central in five minutes-”

“Isn't he supposed to be wearing a huge suit of armor?”

“I don't know, I think it might be him-”

“-well of course, what  _ other _ state alchemist has golden hair and eyes-”

“-doesn't he have an evil twin or something-”

“Don't be disrespectful-” 

“I heard he punched god  _ in the face _ .”

“ _ HEY _ ,” Ed yelled. The class fell silent.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the headache he felt coming.

“Certain events of the promised day were… Exaggerated. A bit.” 

Truthfully, Ed had expected to hear some outrageous rumors. Thanks to Mustang, there was no detailed official record of the events of that day, only a general overview. People who witnessed it first-hand were either scared or ignorant (or both), and as a result, the stories they told were heavily dramatized. Most days, he found it heavily amusing. Right now, he found it annoying.

The class stared at him. Some expressions were easier to read than others.

“Alright, I'm counting that as the last question.”

There were sounds of disappointment throughout the room that Ed ignored.

“Believe it or not, I don't care. The fact is, I’m your professor, and you're here to learn Advanced Alchemical Theory, so you bet your asses I'm going to teach Advanced Alchemical Theory, and we're going to do it the  _ right _ way, which is  _ my _ way.”

Ed straightened to his full height confidently.

“But before that, I need you all to collect your things and follow me. We're taking a class field trip.” 

 

* * *

  
  


Edward led his students out of the classroom and on to a small field in between the building and a row of trees on the edge of campus. The students talked among themselves. Some were still debating over his identity, while others were expressing their worry or curiousity for what he had planned.

It was a pleasant day out, if a bit hot. The grass under his feet was slightly yellowing from lack of water and the heat of late summer. Ed stopped and scanned the terrain. Then, deeming it acceptable, he looked out over his class, using one hand to shield his eyes from the bright sun. They watched him intently as he announced,

“So. Many of you are probably wondering why I have brought you out here.”

A few kids nodded.

“Well, because this is a higher level alchemy class, I’m certain that at least  _ some _ of you have a little experience in combat transmutation, especially those studying to become state alchemists.”

Whispers, both excited and hesitant, spread through the crowd. They increased in volume as Ed shouldered off his coat and started unbuttoning his vest.

“I want to evaluate your skill level. But, because this class is mostly centered around theory, you are under  _ no _ obligation to participate in physical transmutation. So, I’ll take volunteers only- and  _ only _ those who have had basic combat training and can take a hit.” 

A dozen hands shot up immediately. 

“Let me explain the specifics first,” Ed said, exasperated. The hands went down. 

“You will spar with me, using any alchemy techniques or weapons you know, but you will  _ not _ have time beforehand to set up transmutation circles. _ I _ will not be using any alchemy at  _ all _ . If you are able to land a blow on me, that means you win. If I am able to knock you down, that means I win,” he paused, “As an added incentive, anyone who wins will receive an A+ for the entire year, no strings attached.”

Many of the students gasped. Enthusiastic hands went up into the air again. Ed smiled evilly as he chose his prey. After looking over his options, he pointed to an athletic-looking brunette pushing his way to the front of the crowd in his eagerness.

“You. You're first.”

Whispers broke out among the students again when he stepped forward smugly. He had a fairly muscular build and was even slightly taller than Ed. He had a certain cockiness in the way he carried himself.  _ Perfect _ .

“What's your name?” Ed asked.

“Isaac Brittney.”

“And you're training to become a state alchemist, correct?” Ed eyed him down.

“Uh, yeah.” He replied nonchalantly.

“And you've sparred before?” Ed asked.

“Yes. Tons of times,” He shot back, sounding annoyed at the question.

Edward hummed at his blunt tone, but didn't comment on it. He'll learn, soon enough.

“Alright, everyone stay back. Also, keep in mind that either participant has the right to stop the fight  _ immediately _ , no questions asked.”

Isaac snorted loudly at his words, and many students glared at him as they formed a ring to watch the fight. 

Ed simply took his fighting stance and waited for Isaac to do the same.

Ed gave him a carnivorous smile as a warning before saying, “Whenever you're ready.”

A beat of silence.

Then, Isaac shot his hand quickly into his pocket, reaching for something- but Ed had already rushed forward, too fast to see, the space between them disappearing in an instant as he threw a wide right punch. Isaac instinctually blocked, his forearm catching the fist aiming for his face. Ed duly registered the physical shock that traveled up his arm from the stopped blow, already swinging his left arm for another attempt. Isaac had a fast enough reaction time to duck his head, and his punch barely missed.

Isaac's feet shuffled backwards sloppily as he tried to retreat in response to Ed closing the gap. Ed didn't let him gain distance  _ that _ easily, fitting in two quick jabs to his torso, only one of which was fully blocked, and a light kick to his shin before allowing Isaac to back up and put distance between them again. 

The second Ed wasn't on the offense, Isaac reached back into his pocket- pulling out something fabric- and slamming it to the ground. The crackling light of transmutation confirmed Ed’s hypothesis, and he had no time to think before multiple dirt pillars rose from the ground at Isaac's feet, aiming to hit him. He dodged backwards, forcing them to reach farther and farther to come to him- before he stopped retreating entirely, and waited for a split second as they drew near. Right as they were about to hit him head on, he dived suddenly, sliding under the nearly horizontal pillars and towards Isaac. In one fluid motion, he rolled to the side and out from under the pillars, breaking into a sprint in his opponent's direction as soon as his feet were on the ground again.

The transmuted pillars had no chance of stopping and turning completely around in time to catch him. Isaac figured that out just a second too late.

With his pillars outmaneuvered and Ed fast approaching him, panicked and desperately tried throwing up a wall to separate himself from Ed’s offense- but it was too late, and Ed reached him before the wall even grew to his waist. Vaulting over the half-formed wall, Ed buried his foot into Isaac’s chest with enough force that he was knocked on his back.

The whole fight had lasted mere seconds. 

After a moment of disbelief, the students erupted into thunderous applause and cheers.

Ed wiped the sweat off his brow and swept back the loose hairs that escaped from his tie, while Isaac lied panting in the dirt, still trying to process what happened. Eventually, Ed shushed the class and knelt down to Isaac, offering him a hand up. He was stunned for a second, but accepted it.

“Are you okay?” Ed asked calmly.

“ ...Yes, sir,” Isaac mumbled.

Ed met his gaze with a knowing look. He had pulled all his punches as to not do anything more than bruise lightly. He made sure of that. Isaac may be okay physically, but his pride was heavily injured.

Edward briefly clasped his shoulder as a pseudo-apology.

Turning to the class, he stared them down one by one. Everyone waited expectantly for him to break the sober silence. Finally, he began speaking, his voice purposefully soft so they would strain to listen.

“Many people wrongly equate strength with alchemy. Alchemy isn't everything, and it doesn't make you strong. It's not strength. Alchemy is responsibility, energy, knowledge. It is not inherently good or bad. It can easily be used to destroy life. But, it can also be used to advance our understanding of the world and its natural energies, as well as bring people together and improve our lives. It's a fickle power, and it depends on the heart and soul of the person using it. Whether you create or destroy. Whether you use it for yourself or others. Strength is found in  _ how _ and  _ why _ you choose to use it.” 

Ed paused and scanned the young faces staring solemnly at him.   
  
“The use of alchemy is not a right. You only borrow the energy, shift it, alter its flow. It's never yours. You must respect its rules and its raw power or it will quite literally tear you apart,” Ed states plainly. With a deadly serious expression, he gestures to his automail leg. Many students’ eyes grow wide as they grasp his meaning.

“Believe me when I tell you: don't fight against nature's rules, you will  _ always _ loose. And equivalent exchange ensures that any transgression will be appropriately punished.” Many faces pale. Ed continues,   


“Alchemy is, in short, like playing with fire, but the penalty for messing up is far,  _ far _ worse than getting burned. I'm here to teach you to control that fire so that  _ won't ever _ happen.” 

He finally finished. Every one of the kids standing before him looked like they'd seen a ghost. Some looked ready to pass out. 

He hoped that fear would be enough to keep them from making his mistakes.   
  
A second later, Ed cheerfully quipped, “Any questions? No? Great! That's all the time we have for today, your homework is a short essay analyzing your views towards alchemy and what it means to you personally, as well as what you plan to use it for. Due tomorrow. You're dismissed!” 

He flashed a dazzling grin at his terrified class before picking up his coat and dusting it off. 

His class retreated slowly, still eyeing him with awe, but also with a healthy dose of fear mixed in.

So, all in all, today was a success.

Edward felt great.

 

* * *

 

...

...

...

“YOU DID THAT _ TO A STUDENT!? _ ” Winry screamed at him.

Edward wanted to launch himself into the sun.

 


	3. Second Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey... An update, finally!
> 
> Okay so this chapter took me FOREVER to write, and I'm sorry. School was seriously kicking my ass for a while there, and in my free time I started avoiding this fic... ╮(─▽─)╭  
> Anyway, its here, and I have the next chapter started as well. You'll have to wait and see when that one comes out. I'm beginning to notice that I'm not a fast updater (usually).
> 
> OH, and I went through 200 pages of my reblogs to FINALLY find the post that gave me inspiration for this heckin fic: http://madzelqrow.tumblr.com/post/169779141677/philosophy-and-coffee-i-like-to-think-that-at
> 
> ALSO I WILL REPLY TO EVERY LAST COMMENT EVEN IF IT KILLS ME

 

The classes Ed had planned for the rest of the week were not quite as physical.

He _initially_ planned for the second day to be a continuation of the sparring he started on the first, but after receiving a gentle discouragement from his superior (the head of the Alchemy Department) and a thorough scolding from Winry, Ed relented.

(His boss was a nice old guy, if a little on the meek side for an alchemist. He had stuttered through the entire short meeting he had called Ed into his office for. Ed was pretty sure he had intimidated the poor old man. Ed was also pretty sure that he caused a fair amount of trouble for him by overstepping his bounds a little with the sparring incident, which made him feel pretty guilty. The man assured him that it was not a big deal, but asked him not to do it again, _if he would be so kind_. Ed was certain that it was only his reputation that kept him from getting more punishment than that, and that knowledge made him feel even _more_ guilty.

Winry straight up told him that she had zero sympathy for him. She reminded him that he was the one solely responsible for the whole ordeal, to which he responded something along the lines of, “...That’s fair.” He ended up shouldering that guilt.)

Even though Isaac was unhurt and didn’t seem to carry any ill will towards him, he admitted that sparring on the first day might have been overdoing it. Maybe. He should have at least saved it for the third or fourth day.

So, Ed went back and slightly revised his lesson plans to exclude more of the physical elements. Besides, he felt like he had already made his point clear enough.

As a result, the second day of class was largely uneventful when compared to the first, but still much more chaotic than what he imagined a normal class would be like.

At the start of his second day, Ed pushed the classroom door open and frantically shut it again, leaning against it and panting as if he had run a marathon. He took a minute to compose himself and let out an annoyed sigh. Slowly, he stood and smoothed his bangs back from where they were sticking up in disarray.

Although he went to great lengths to arrive _insanely_ early as to avoid them, some random students were gathered by the entrances of the campus in order to gawk at him. He had expected for word to get around that the Fullmetal Alchemist was teaching here, but he was still surprised at how _fast_ the news seemed to have traveled. He didn’t think anyone would bother waking up this early, either. The sun was _barely_ up, for alchemy’s sake!

But, there they were, and he practically _sprinted_ past them in order to avoid their questions.

(He supposed he _could_ have humored them for a bit instead of running past, but he had more important things to do. Socializing early in the morning never worked out well for him, anyway. Someone always ended up offended. Really, he was doing them a _favor_ by shielding them from his own temper.)

Ed pushed them from his mind to focus on the empty classroom in front of him. Once he got his breathing under control, he walked to the front desk and set his bag down. He paused for a moment to compose his scattered thoughts. He had a schedule to keep.

The first order of business was organizing the mess of books piled on the shelves and floor around the room. Thanks to the University’s prestige and generous budget, he was supplied with what basically amounted to a small alchemy library--- all for his class’s private use. However, as he noticed yesterday, the books were horribly disorganized, and Ed had planned to spend the morning sorting as many as he could before class began.

He steeled his resolve and stepped closer to the books lining the walls. At the top of a stack to his left, his eyes got caught on several glossy new copies of a thick blue book. He turned towards them and saw the title: _Xingese Alkahestry: A Historical Perspective_ , by Alphonse Elric. Ed’s whole face lit up as he grinned proudly to himself. He reached out and picked up the heavy tome, fingers grazing the surface. He looked back to the pile and lifted two more copies, wanting to see what else was there. Under those, he was ecstatic to find new copies of his own books: _Alchemy Practices of the Western World_ and _Xerxian Roots: The History of Modern Amestrian Alchemy_. His grin grew impossibly wider.

Ed picked one up, his fingers tracing the lettering with joy. Distantly, thought he should feel ashamed of the egotism, but he just couldn’t stamp down his pride and satisfaction. He travelled around the world for _years_ , pouring his heart and soul into that research. He reasoned that- at this point- he had _earned_ a little egotism.

He set the book down and once again focused on the task at hand. He chose a bookshelf and began to empty the top, pulling down several dusty books at a time. He quickly lost himself in the task, and found that the work was actually pretty soothing, not counting the dust occasionally making him sneeze. At some point, he had started humming a random song to himself. He moved languidly as he sorted the old books into piles at his feet. More and more sunlight was starting to stream from the windows as he worked, warming his back and brightening the classroom. Outside, he heard a person’s laughter break through the constant chirping of the birds. His absent-minded humming grew louder as he progressed through the bookshelf. The soft ticking of the clock on the wall and the increasing slant of sunlight through the windows were the only indications that time was still moving.

In the back of his mind, Ed thought how a younger version of himself would have found the work dreadfully boring. Now, though, he had to admit he was enjoying the peaceful moment. He wondered if that meant he’s getting old.

Before long, the classroom doors opened and broke the fragile state of peace. He looked towards the commotion to see a pair of students enter, talking amicably to each other. When they saw him, their conversation trailed off and they paused by the doors. It was as if they weren’t expecting him to be in the room.

Ignoring their hesitance, Ed curtly instructed them to turn in their essays in a pile on the front desk. As they walked and ruffled through their bags to comply, he turned back to the bookshelf.

He began working quickly to fill the last shelf before class started. While he worked, additional students entered in a small group. He called over his shoulder at them to turn in the essays and motioned vaguely to the pile started on his desk, not looking up from the books. Quiet chatter and rustling began to fill the room as they took their seats and prepared for class.

After a few more minutes, the stack of new books were all fit snugly on the shelf. He stepped back and looked over his organization with a nod of satisfaction. Then, glancing at the clock hanging on the front wall, he was surprised to see that he had nearly ten minutes to spare.

He strolled over to his desk and stretched his arms out in front of him to try to work out the small knots of pain in his joints. Joint pain. Now he was _certain_ he was getting old. With a sigh, he sunk into his chair at the front of the room.

Ed watched as his students trickled in and added their essays to the pile in front of him. Many froze and did a double-take as they entered and saw him calmly sitting at his desk. He figured that the reason for their surprise was how normal it seemed. He bet that many of them expected him to make a dramatic entrance, busting through the door like he did yesterday.

He internally scoffed. As if he was _that_ predictable.

Most conversations died down to a low murmur and people began to fidget when Ed began intently scanning the room. The rest of his students continued to file in during the last few minutes before class, walking over and handing in their essays once they spotted the pile in front of him. Many were hesitant and shy as they read the slight tension in the air. The uncertainty built until it was palpable.

Despite that, a few brave souls (including Isaac, to his surprise) greeted him with a ‘good morning’ and a nervous smile as they stood before his unreadable gaze. When he replied to them politely, the class visibly relaxed a fraction and some of the tension dropped.

Ed sighed. While it was good to know they maintained that healthy dose of fear from yesterday, he was glad for the positive change in mood. Now that he was confident that he wouldn’t need to fight for control, he could ditch the intimidation tactics (at least for now) in favor of building a more comfortable atmosphere. He relaxed his posture and his expression shifted into something more open. The remaining unease covering the room lifted, and his small smile that broke forth was genuine.

Chatter started back up while Ed watched the last of them take their seats. While watching them interact, He dimly realized that he should probably learn everyone's name. Eventually.

Then, it was time for class to begin. He stood, shushed the casual conversations, and addressed them.

“Good morning. First things first--- due to some… Uh... _concerns_ , the sparring sessions will not be continued for the foreseeable future,” He announced.

Disappointed groans were expressed by many, which he ignored.

“Instead, we will be going through the _rules_.” He grimaced and spat out the word as if it was something distasteful. He received several looks of dread, and in some cases, surprise. “Yeah, I know. Bare with me, it’s mandatory.”

Ed picked up his notes and launched into his explanation of the structure and expectations of the class, wanting to get it over with. He feared that the students would find it _terribly_ boring after that wild first day, but it couldn't be helped. He was, _unfortunately_ , contractually obligated to do this.

Towards the end of the overview of the class structure, he felt both his and his students’ concentrations slipping. For everyone's sake, he moved through the remainder of the boring shit as fast as possible.

When he finally covered all that he was supposed to, he slammed down the papers he was reading off of onto his desk, making a few dozing students jump.

“So! In conclusion, respect for others- specifically _me_ \- is important, the final isn’t cumulative, and plagiarism is punishable by death. That’s all you need to remember, really,” Ed deadpanned. Only a few laughed. The rest were too busy trying to tell if he was joking or not.

“...Anyway, now we can get into the actual curriculum I have planned for you guys,” Ed continued. Some students visibly perked up at his words. The tired atmosphere was swept away by eagerness.

“Because this is a year-long class, we have the luxury of going much more in depth than you've probably studied before. That being said, I think you’ll find this class a lot more challenging than others,” He scanned the class as he spoke, noting which faces paled at his warning. “However, as long as you're putting in honest effort, I can work with you. Just _ask_ me, don’t struggle silently. Understood?” Several people nodded.

“Alright. So what I plan on teaching is a little… Okay, a _lot_ different than what this class originally entailed. Instead of focusing _only_ on modern Amestrian alchemical theory, we are going to be learning worldwide alchemical theory, as well as the history of the various theories. We’re going to be learning about cultures and events that Amestris has never taught before. Basically, there’s going to be a _lot_ of world history involved that will be completely new to you.” Before Ed was fully finished speaking, several hands shot into the air.

“Let me guess. You're asking why I changed the curriculum so much?” Ed ventured. Some hands lowered. He nodded to himself.

“For a long time, Amestris has focused mostly on itself, especially when it comes to alchemical advancement. Hundreds of years ago, we sort of shut ourselves off from other countries, and as a result, we missed out on a lot of growth and discovery. This isolation also led to each generation having a more narrow-minded view--- not to mention a growing superiority complex. The Amestrian education system is often a testament to these, as it is non-inclusive at best and completely contrived at worst,” Ed was proud that he only allowed a small amount of contempt to enter his tone. Regardless, some people flinched at his words.

Ed continued, undaunted, “I changed it to a much more international perspective because- quite simply- that’s how it _should_ be, if we want to reach alchemy’s full potential. When we look at other countries’ theory, we can apply it to our own, and vice versa,” He finished.

He could tell they were stunned at his blatant distaste, but he didn’t regret telling them the truth. He only hoped that he- along with the governmental changes taking place- could break the cycle of harmful nationalism.

(Really, he hadn’t expected that to be one of his goals when he decided to teach. But, when faced with a _heavily_ Amestrian curriculum, he saw for the first time just how _brainwashing_ the government was in the past. I mean, he always _knew_ , to a certain extent, but this still hit him in the face with a profound feeling of wrong, and he decided to change it. His version was more accurate, more inclusive, and just plain more interesting.)

Several hands remained in the air. He pointed at a boy in the front row.

“What do you mean when you say that Amestris hasn't taught it's citizens about many historical events? Why wouldn't they?” He asked. Ed smiled sadly.

“Because some of those ‘ _events_ ’ were government authorized genocide, among other things. Truthfully, it hasn't been taught because that kind of stuff makes the government look bad. Not to mention that the ones who end up writing the history of a war are the victors, and there is always bias and missing perspectives,” Ed stated soberly. Some students stared in shock at his blatant response while a few others nodded grimly at his words. He was glad that there were at least _some_ with previous knowledge of the government’s corruption.

“Thankfully, our government is undergoing _extensive_ changes to fix some of this bullshit,” He added, almost as an afterthought.

Because as much as Ed complained about Mustang, he had to admit that he was altering the country for the better. He had changed more policies in a _year_ than any other Fürher had changed in their entire _careers_ , including Grumman.

(In the years following the promised day, Grumman had focused mainly on gaining stability for Amestris. Unfortunately, focusing on _stability_ meant that radical change in governmental policy was out of the question, so a lot of smaller changes were made.)

While Grumman only _introduced_ the framework for democracy during his short term as Fürher, Mustang was actively changing law after law to give more voting power to the citizens. As one could imagine, that made him _pretty_ popular with the common people. Ed would never admit it out loud so long as he lives, but the bastard  _did_ make a great leader.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by a single hand raising into the air in front of him. The hand, originating from the front left row, belonged to the Xingese student. Ed reminded himself once again that he should learn names so he could stop mentally referring to him by only his ethnicity.

Ed motioned for him to speak, and he fidgeted slightly. For a second, Ed thought that he was going to stand up before asking his question, like he did yesterday. But, he stilled and stayed seated. He asked with carefully restrained excitement, “Does this mean there will be a unit focusing on Xingese Alkahestry?”

Ed smiled and replied, “Oh, there will be _several_ units. A whole chapter, in fact. On top of that, there will be several lessons over different techniques used in specific regions of Xing.” A warm, fond feeling ran through him as he watched the student’s face light up with joy.

Another hand shot up from the front row, this time to Ed’s right. He turned to see that it was Isaac, sitting up eagerly.

Ed nodded at him and he asked, “Will there be physical transmutation practice besides the sparring?”

Ed paused and thought to himself for a moment.

The fact of the matter was that theory alone would _not_ be the greatest teacher, and he knew this when he was rewriting the curriculum. He had scheduled several classes throughout the year in which he would oversee physical transmutation practice. He had first accepted the job all those months ago always _intending_ to teach more than just theory.

However, his recent scolding, and the lingering guilt from said scolding, made him consider doing away with those lesson plans.

But… The idea that he could guide them through the _actual process_ and give direct feedback was too compelling. It’s not like he would make it mandatory. Besides, he had confidence that he could adequately control his students--- even without his alchemy.

Isaac was waiting for his answer with apprehension as well as hope.

“...Well, considering that this is Advanced Alchemical _Theory_ , that question _should_ be answered by a no,” Ed said. Isaac’s face fell and a few objections sounded through the room.

Ed smirked and continued, “And it _would_ be, if I were some wrinkly old bastard professor. But I’m _not_ \--- I’m Edward _Fucking_ Elric, and I say _hell_ yes.”

Cheers erupted around the classroom. Isaac whooped and pumped his fist in celebration.

Edward fucking Elric smiled brilliantly and waited for the commotion to die down.

“Alright, so. Next order of business: overview of course material,” Ed announced and dug through his bag for his lesson plans. Once he found the correct notes, he took them out, spread them on his desk, and cleared his throat.

“Our first chapter will be over the history of the ancient civilization of Xerxes, as well as their alchemy practices…”

Ed’s words trailed off as several dozen hands shot into the air. “Okay--- if your question does not have to do _specifically_ with the structure of our curriculum, put your hand down.” All hands reluctantly lowered. Ed sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I promise, I’ll answer your questions about Xerxes and why the _hell_ I would choose to teach about it when we start the chapter,” He assured.

As he scanned the room, he received curious looks that made him _certain_ that they would hold him to that promise. Ed sighed again.

Their eager interest somehow made him feel exacerbated _and_ proud at the same time. He was both annoyed _and_ fond, like a tired parent.

In that moment, he somehow _knew_ , with absolute certainty, that _this_ is how they would make him feel every day for the rest of the year.

He looked at the excited young faces focused on him.

After a second of thought, Ed decided that- _maybe_ \- it wasn’t too bad of a feeling.

He continued his lesson.

 


	4. Third Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. Long time, no update. Unfortunately, getting myself to sit down and write for more than 20 minutes at a time is like pulling teeth. Slow and steady wins the race I guess.
> 
> Anyway, I wanted to note that this story takes place in 1925; 10 years after the promised day. Ed and Winry are both 26, and their son is almost 1.
> 
> That being said, I'm aware that Ed acts as if he were far older, and these "college kids" act like they are far younger. This is mostly because I wanted to have more dramatic interactions that ~realistically~ wouldn't happen.
> 
> Also, in this chapter I introduce an Autistic-coded OC. I myself am not on the spectrum, but I have friends and family who are, so she is based mostly around them. If I mess up or do anything sketchy in my portrayal, please tell me!!!

 

After yesterday’s overview, no further introductory matters were required. The students now knew his expectations, as well as the curricular structure of the class.

Now, on his third day of being a Professor, Ed could move on to the actual _teaching_ part.

That is, if he didn’t have a mental breakdown before he even _got_ to his classroom.

His eyes burned as he shuffled out of the train and walked towards campus. The large crowd of people commuting to their jobs created a dull roar of noise in the back of his head, and he could already tell that a headache was forming. Every slight bump from a passerby left him aggravated, and he scowled at everything and everyone unfortunate enough to meet his eyes.

Coffee in one hand, bag in the other, he walked as quickly through the crowds of people as his aching automail leg would allow.  

For the thousandth time this morning, he cursed at his past _dumbass_ self for staying up _all night_ to grade essays. He had (stupidly) resolved to get them all done that night in an effort to get to know his individual students better. It was an honorable sentiment, but he _severely_ underestimated the amount of time it would take. As a result, he was on edge in a way that only sleep deprivation and extra-dark coffee can make a person: irritable, jittery, and waiting for the inevitable crash.

Mostly irritable, as he felt the strong urge to murder the old lady in front of him walking a _little_ too slowly for his taste.

For the sake of his students (and himself, and the world in general), he hoped these all-nighters wouldn’t become a regular occurrence. He’d probably end up in jail.

As much as he _felt_ like murder, he knew he _looked_ like it even more so. The one glance into the mirror earlier this morning would've made him jump, if he had the energy. Bloodshot, bag-lined eyes and disheveled hair made for an unpleasant look to match his unpleasant mood.

It was so bad, when Winry noticed, she didn’t even scold him for staying up all night (like she had many times before, when his research got the best of him). She took one pitiful look at him and started making the grossest coffee possible.

It helped, if only marginally. Unfortunately, it also tasted _and_ felt like eating mud, which added to his (already impressive, mind you) bitch face.

If there was one positive to this whole situation, it was the fact that no one had even _tried_ to approach him because they were frightened by his appearance. This was exhibited quite nicely when he finally got the campus gate. A group of students (who were, once again, eagerly waiting to catch a glance of the Fullmetal Alchemist) took one look at him and hurriedly stepped out of the way.

That was perfectly fine with him. He _really_ didn’t feel like entertaining energetic fans right now (or ever, honestly, but _especially_ not now).

As Ed trudged down the path towards the Alchemy Studies building, he encountered only a few other people, all of whom paid him no mind. Once he turned the corner of an open square bordered by a row of large trees, the building was _finally_ in view.

Unfortunately, his moment of relief was cut short when he spotted three more students hanging near the doors. He sighed in annoyance and braced himself for questions just in case his Murder Face™ didn’t chase _these_ ones away.

However, his preemptive annoyance proved to be unnecessary--- when he got within a dozen feet or so, he recognized them as three of _his_ students. He relaxed the tension in his shoulders and dropped the scowl that had been on his face since he woke up.

_These_ ones, he could deal with.

As he approached, they finally looked up from their conversation and saw him. Ignoring his clearly disheveled appearance, the two girls waved energetically in greeting. The third, a taller boy with messy brown hair, nervously pushed up his glasses.

Despite being just a few feet away from him, one of the girls- who was wearing a myriad of colorful accessories that stood out against her dark complexion- jumped up while waving and yelled out, “Hey Professor Elric!”

“ _Clare_ , not so loud!” The other girl- a redhead- scolded, and elbowed her in the side.

“ _Ow_ \- hey, that _hurt!_ ” Clare hissed dramatically to her. She moved to punch the other girl’s shoulder, but her fist was quickly smacked away. In retaliation, Clare landed a solid kick to the red-haired girl’s shin. She smiled smugly and enjoyed her victory for only a second before her kick was repaid by a hard flick to the forehead.

During this short exchange, the tall boy with glasses- Everett, Ed remembered- watched with exasperation and embarrassment from his position slightly behind them. When he met Ed’s eyes, he gestured vaguely to the bickering girls and mouthed _“help me”_ with exaggerated desperation in his gaze.

Ed threw his head back in silent laughter at the sheer unexpectedness of the scene, and answered him with an amused shrug. _“Sorry, buddy.”_

“ _Ow!_ Kris, you-” Clare was cut off by Kris’s malicious glare. There was a second of silence in which both girls froze as they suddenly remembered they were in the presence of their teacher. In unison, they turned back to Ed, blushing.

Seeing their guilty childlike expressions, Ed couldn’t help but mess with them a little.

“Good morning,” he greeted pleasantly.

Rather, his tone _would’ve_ come across as pleasant, if it wasn’t for the mildly predatory grin, or the hard glint in his bloodshot eyes, or the dark circles, or the messy hair which accompanied his words.

The girls’ eyes widened in fear. Kris’s already pale skin lost even more color. Clare’s mouth gaped open and closed, not unlike a fish.

Ed held the look for a little while longer, then dropped it and smiled more warmly at them. After a moment of confusion, Clare laughed in relief and Kris just sighed. From behind them, Everett dissolved into snickers.

Kris, wearing a tired expression, said, “Professor Elric, I’m sorry, but you really need to stop doing that before no one can tell if you're seriously mad or not.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” Ed smiled and quipped back.

Clare laughed, and emboldened by the banter, added, “By the way, Professor--- I love the coat. The color really brings out your dark eye bags, makes them pop.”

Kris hissed and tried to elbow her again, but stopped when Ed just huffed out a laugh.

“Thanks, I made them myself,” he shot back. Everett started giggling again. Clare looked at Ed, delighted. Kris hid a smile behind her hand.

A moment passed while they all stood around and smiled at each other like a bunch of idiots. Then, a dull throb behind Ed’s eyes reminded him of his less-than-ideal start to the morning, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than a couple minutes alone. While the unexpected exchange did serve to lighten his mood considerably, he could still feel a headache forming, and laughter wasn’t helping him (physically, anyway).

So, Ed cleared his throat and said, somewhat awkwardly, “Well, I gotta, uh, get to class. See you there.” And with that, he turned away from them and approached the double doors.

At the door handle, Ed hesitated for a second. He was trying to decide how he was going to open it without either of his hands free. But before he could try, Kris spoke up, saying, “Oh, wait- you don’t want to go that way, Sir. There's quite a few people in there-”

She was cut off by Clare exclaiming, “Oh- right! Yeah, they're crowding the hallways in order to see you, which is actually kinda rude-”

“-which is why we're out here in the first place. We told them that we’d be the lookouts, so they’d all wait inside and we could warn you,” Everett finished.

Ed was dumbfounded for a moment as he processed their words. His blooming headache was quickly forgotten. He stared at them, not sure what to feel.

Uncomfortable with Ed’s silence, Kris fidgeted in place and added, “Because- well, we just figured- since you had your name changed in the registry- that you wanted some level of, uh, anonymity...” She trailed off, blushing at the attention.

When she looked at them nervously for support, her two companions were solemnly nodding in agreement. She stood taller and looked back to Ed.

Ed watched the exchange with wide eyes. Seemingly out of nowhere, he was blindsided by a wave of fondness and gratitude so large, it left him mentally rearing.

He opened his mouth to express some kind of thanks, but then quickly shut it again. He was at a loss--- what could he say that would express his sincerity without being too sappy or weird?

Eventually, he simply said to them, “...Thank you- each of you- for the warning.” Ed smiled brightly and hoped it looked as honest as it felt. He looked each one in the eyes, and they smiled back.

He paused, thinking. Slowly, his bright smile turned into more of a smirk, and a wicked gleam appeared in his eyes. He looked towards the doors again and his tone became low and ominous as he added, “...But think I can handle them.”

His students’ eyes widened in excitement and they all took several steps back. They watched him warily as he turned back to the double doors with purpose.

Ed made sure to pause dramatically in front of the doors. Then, against his better judgement, he glanced back at them over his shoulder and gleefully yelled, “Check _this_ shit---” and sent the doors _flying_ open with one kick.

Some of the crowd waiting inside startled and screamed at the slam, then froze. Wide eyes stared at him and jaws dropped.

Shocked silence covered the hall like a heavy blanket.

Edward slowly, purposefully, lowered his raised leg and eyed the crowd down with steel in his gaze. The look was only intensified by the bags under his eyes and his slightly unkempt hair. Several people cowered in place under his scrutiny.

The silence held. Then, his face split into a satisfied smirk, containing more malice than humor.

He took a long, slow sip of his coffee, maintaining murderous eye contact with the crowd as he did so. Many looked away guiltily, as if they were caught doing something shameful. The rest just continued to stare in terror.

After a pause, he proceeded to march straight through the hallway, and everyone quickly scrambled out of his path, fearing for their lives.

Even after he turned the corner and out of sight, no one dared make a sound.

Then, all eyes whipped back towards the door, where a noise akin to several strangled cats emitted.

The crowd watched, still in shock, as three red-faced students, doubled over and clutching their stomachs, desperately tried (and failed) to stifle their delighted howls of laughter.

 

* * *

 

“Alright. So today we're going to be starting our first chapter, which is over the general history of Xerxes. Because much is unknown about the ancient civilization, we should be able to get through most of the material within this class period, give or take a few minutes,” Ed announced from where he casually leaned against the front of his desk, arms folded.

On account of the warm sunlight shining through the windows, he had long since discarded his coat and rolled the sleeves of his white dress shirt up to his elbows. Absentmindedly, he ran a hand through his damp bangs after he finished speaking.

Before class started, he had ducked away to the bathroom to wet down his messy hair and straighten his clothing in an attempt to look more put together. His effort proved surprisingly fruitful--- all that remained from his earlier Murder Look™ was the dark shadows under his eyes.

He was looking, and feeling, much more mentally present. He had to admit that the conversation with the three students, and the following stunt with the terrified crowd, had cheered him up immensely.

His gaze traveled the room to eventually land on the right hand middle row, where the trio from earlier were listening aptly. Their faces were no longer the beet-red color they were when they had entered the classroom shortly after him, but they still held traces of their maniacal smiles in the lights of their eyes. They met Ed’s gaze and grinned knowingly at him, like they were sharing in an inside joke (which, he supposed, they were).

Ed tried to look disapproving, rolling his eyes. The effect was ruined by the small grin that briefly broke his stoicism.

He looked away from them and added, “After that, we will start studying Xerxian alchemical practices, which will take much longer.”

In the pause that followed, his students remained quiet. They were looking at him eagerly, and he got the impression that they were waiting for something. Several hesitantly put their hands up. He suddenly remembered his promise from yesterday.

“Oh- okay. Geez. Uh, I guess I’ll explain why we’re studying a dead civilization,” He started.

The hands lowered.

“Well... To get right to the point, I think the study of past cultures is important. We often learn from their mistakes and make our own advancements. Specifically, a considerable amount of our Amestrian culture and alchemy is inherited from Xerxes,” He paused for a moment.

“...I suppose you could say the base of Amestris is- _was_ \- made out of the Xerxian people,” Ed finished.

As soon as the words left his mouth, he winced sharply. Hearing it out loud, he admitted to himself that the joke, although funny, was probably not the most tactful.

(Not that anyone here would understand it, anyway. Really, his wit was being wasted on these little bastards.)

After he was done speaking, many more hands raised into the air. Ed called on a dark-haired girl in the back.

“Professor Elric, sir. As you are aware, the mysterious nature of Xerxes’ disappearance has caused many different theories as to exactly how the civilization fell. My question is this: are we to be taught your theory as expressed in your book, _Xerxian Roots: The History of Modern Amestrian Alchemy_?” She asked, her deep voice projecting through the room easily.

Her impressive eloquence immediately labelled her as the girl who had turned in the longest essay of the entire class. Ed remembered it vividly, as it took him _ages_ to grade last night. For a second, Ed scrambled his brain in search of a name. Then, it clicked.

“Mal!” He said triumphantly.

“Um- yes, sir?” She asked, both surprised and confused.

(Distantly, he noticed how she wasn’t directly looking at his face, but rather focusing on a point above his head.)

Ed stopped, also confused, before he realized he had said that out loud.

“Oh, sorry. I was trying to remember your name,” He explained. At his words, she looked even _more_ confused.

“...Wh- If I may ask, sir, why would you feel it necessary to remember my name? I- I have no desire for special treatment-”

“-Oh, no, I wasn’t- I-” Ed stumbled over his words, “I just use people’s names, if that’s okay- but if it isn’t, I could-”

“-No!” She loudly interjected. All eyes in the classroom locked onto her at the outburst. Aware of the sudden attention she was receiving, Mal visibly paled and swallowed.

Ed, sensing her distress, quickly deflected, “Ah, that’s fine- _anyone_ who wants to be called something other than their first name is welcome to talk to me about it- maybe after class.”

As he said this, he briefly met Mal’s fearful eyes and tried to convey gentle understanding in his own gaze. He hoped she read his unspoken request to speak to her privately. She quickly looked away, but relaxed her posture minutely. Ed gave her a small, but kind, smile.

He definitely remembered her, now.

“And- yes, to answer the original question. We will be loosely following my book, but that’s more for alchemical theory than general history, so we’ll use it more later. For now, I have history textbooks available for you that have most of the information, if you want them,” Ed gestured to a newly organized bookshelf on the right side of the room.

“And for the disappearance of Xerxes, you’re welcome to hold your own opinions as long as you know that most evidence points to my theory,” Ed added.

When he received some unusual looks, he elaborated, “That’s not just my ego talking, either. I studied Xerxes for _years_ after the promised day. Not to mention I kinda have inside knowledge thanks to my _heritage_ , or whatever...” He trailed off as surprised whispers started up and dozens of hands shot into the air at his words. He stared at them, uncomprehending, until he realized what he had said.

Not for the first time (and _definitely_ not for the last), Edward cursed his too-big mouth.

It wasn’t like he was _hiding_ the knowledge that he’s of Xerxian decent, but he wasn’t planning on going out and _advertising_ it, either. There were rumors, of course--- As well as those who knew enough about history to identify golden hair and eyes as Xerxian--- but neither he nor Al ever confirmed them. Mostly because they didn’t really care for the extra questions people would ask.

Ed was enough of a celebrity already. But, he supposed now that the cat’s out of the bag, he would much rather let that cat run away and become wild then get all scratched up trying to chase it around. Al was always so much better with cats, anyway--- even when he was a suit of armor. Ed never really cared for them, himself. Way too sharp and full of themselves, the smug little bastards. Where was he going with this analogy again…?

Oh, Xerxes, right.

“Alright, calm down, yes- I’m Xerxian. My fa- uh, _grandfather_ told me some of the stuff he remembered hearing from _his_ grandfather, when growing up,” He said over the commotion.

(There were actually two lies in that statement: one being that it was his (immortal, centuries-old) _father_ , not his grandfather, who gave the information, and the second being that the information was originally told to _Alphonse_ , not him. He never willingly _chatted_ with Hohenheim if he could help it.

Al had later shared the information with Ed, once Ed was beginning his research on Xerxes and their primary source of Xerxian information- The Bastard Himself- was… Gone.

The researcher in Ed regretted never getting all the historical details from him.

The son in Ed- a distant, repressed portion of himself- regretted never even _trying_ to repair his relationship with his father.

Edward was just happy that Alphonse wasn’t as stubborn and malicious as he was, and ended up with a somewhat positive- if strained- relationship with Hohenheim.)

It was Clare who broke him out of his brief pity-party by jumping up and shouting, with reverence in her voice, “Professor- excuse me for saying this- but you are _by far_ the most interesting person in the world.”

Edward was startled enough to bark out a laugh, surprising most students.

“You’re damn right!” He exclaimed, making a show of puffing up his chest and grinning smugly. A few students, including Clare, giggled.

Ed mentally shook himself and focused back on his lesson plan. “Now, let’s actually start the damn chapter we’ve been talking so much about,” He said, then ducked behind his desk to search through his bag.

After a moment of digging, he pulled out his personal copy of his own book. It was a battered, well-used one, with scratches and dents adorning the dark-drown cover. Various scraps of paper stuck chaotically out from between the frayed pages. Handwritten notes were scribbled in nearly all the margins, as well as all over the makeshift bookmarks poking out. It smelled faintly of the coffee he once spilled on it.

(Winry hated this specific book, claiming that he had rendered it unintelligible, and often nagged at him to replace it with a less devastated copy. He wouldn’t even dream of it. It may be a mess, but it was an _organized_ mess, and also the very first copy ever printed, _thankyouverymuch_.)

In the background, he heard the students rifle through their own bags to take out supplies for note-taking. Some muted conversations started up. Ed took a moment to turn it open to the proper page and gather his thoughts.

He turned to the chalkboard behind him to snag a piece of chalk from the sill. Holding the book open in one hand and the chalk in the other, he turned back around to face his class. He waited for a few moments before the conversations died off and all eyes were on him. Finally, he began, his voice easily filling the room.

“The civilization of Xerxes was first formed around the early 1300s, centered around an oasis in the middle of the Desert Area to our East. It was believed to be founded by a wealthy merchant king, who taxed the caravans stopping at the oasis on their journey between the primitive countries of Xing and Amestris...”

Throughout the lecture, Ed paused to write down the occasional date and name on the board behind him, along with brief bullet points of major events or other information he deemed important for them to remember.

The students dutifully listened and took notes, keeping their questions mostly to themselves. They were hesitant, at first, to interrupt him, but relaxed considerably after he answered the first few questions enthusiastically.

The atmosphere became comfortable as Ed made it increasingly clear through his responses that he valued their input. Soon, many more students were asking questions and laughing at his jabs at historical figures.

The minutes quickly flew by.

The next time Ed paused and checked the clock, he did a double-take as he saw class was nearly over already. It felt like he had only just started, despite the large amount of content he had managed to cover--- they were nearly finished with the history aspect of their unit. Ed was surprised that he was able to get through it in a single day.

As he was nearing the end of the lecture, many of the students sat up in their seats more attentively than before. He knew they had been waiting specifically for this part, and were eager to hear how a civilization of over a million people could disappear (seemingly) at an instant.

“...And with the new rights given to slaves, the _final_ ruler of Xerxes ascended into power,” Ed emphasized. A few students leaned forward in their chairs at his words. “Oh yes--- now we get to the finale,” he smirked.

“During his 44 year reign, he maintained the economic prosperity established by his predecessors and even heightened the already impressive intellectual prowess of the upper class, with a focus on advancing alchemical theory.” Ed continued at painfully slow pace, just for the sole purpose of making them impatient. He smirked when a few people fidgeted.

“He was generally well loved... Up until the last decade of his rule, when he started to become reclusive, and occasionally, negligent. He started channeling most of his funds into alchemical research, and the Xerxian public began to dissent,” Ed paused and turned to the chalkboard. There, he wrote _“1568: The Disaster”_ in large letters.

Now came the issue of censorship.

Ed knew he’d run into the issue--- in fact, he had planned for it. It had been the first thing (after the obligatory congratulations) that Mustang discussed with him after he broke the news that he would be taking the teaching job.

He had asked how much of the truth he planned on telling his students.

At first, Ed replied with a _“Fuck you, I can do what I want,”_ but eventually assuaged Mustang’s fears (and threats of imprisonment) by giving him a copy of the heavily edited lesson plan and receiving his approval in turn. _As if he needed it._

The official version of events he was set to teach contained about as much truth as the statement sent out by the government about the events of the promised day, which amounted to the bare minimum.

_However_ … If Ed ended up telling them a _bit_ more than what was in his lesson plan, that was _his_ business, and what Führer Bastard didn’t know (unfortunately) wouldn’t kill him. Besides, a lot of it was published in his book, anyway, and Mustang had _long_ since stopped yelling at him for _that_.

Mentally assuring himself of that fact once again, Ed slowly wrote _“Pursuit of Immortality”_ under the heading of _“1568: The Disaster.”_

Heated whispers instantly swept the room. When he turned to face them, he saw a large majority of his students jumping out of their seats to raise their hands.

Ignoring them, he spoke, “During the tail end of his life, the King became not only negligent, but corrupt. As his health slowly failed, he became _obsessed_ with the idea of immortality gained through alchemical means. Namely, immortality through human transmutation.”

He walked to the front of his desk and leaned against it, arms crossed and expression sober. The students raising their hands slowly sat back down and listened intently. The scraping of pens and pencils that had previously accompanied his lecture had disappeared as most of the class just sat and gaped at him.

“He had one adviser, specifically, that pushed him further and further down this path in hopes that it would eventually cause his death, and the resulting power vacuum. Well, I suppose he got what he wished for, because the King _did_ end up dying from attempted human transmutation, but he took the entire population of Xerxes with him.

The actual alchemical science behind the incident is still unknown. All that we know is that it was such a _huge_ breach of the natural law, in addition to not succeeding, the equivalent cost was far beyond anything ever seen, even to this day. Everyone within a 50 mile radius simply dropped dead. The only Xerxian survivors where individuals who had been traveling at the time.

In fact, the so-called ‘disappearance’ of Xerxes is likely the main cause for the ancient taboo on human transmutation, and understandably so. Equivalent exchange is often _infinitely_ more costly than we estimate it to be. It’s like I said on the first day, If you test the natural order, you _will_ lose.”

Tense silence followed his speech. His class stared at him, unmoving.

As he scanned the room, he even caught a few glancing towards his automail leg.

Ed sighed and slumped his shoulders slightly.

_Great_ . There he went, scaring them again. _Just_ when he resolved to create a more comfortable atmosphere, too.

He mentally shook himself to regain focus. Pushing off against his desk, he stood straight and clapped his hands together as if to dispel the dark mood of the room. Several people jumped.

“Well, that’s that,” He announced with enthusiasm. “Now we can move-”

Ed was interrupted, however, by the distant, deep ringing of the campus clock tower. Confused, he looked at the time, which read 10:30. He jumped--- class had ended _ten minutes_ ago.

“Whoa, holy fuck- why didn’t anyone tell me I kept you guys late!?” He exclaimed. A few opened their mouths to answer, but he interrupted, “No- don’t actually answer that- just get out of here! As much as this is _undoubtedly_ your most interesting class, I don’t want to get fired. _Yet_. Not until I’ve successfully stolen my wages worth of office supplies from the teacher’s lounge and/or set the main cafeteria on fire.”

Ed smiled in satisfaction as most of them laughed while gathering their things. He watched as they exited the classroom, talking excitedly amongst themselves.

Well, all but one.

Mal stood nervously in the isle beside her table while the others stepped around her. When he noticed her, Ed moved behind his desk and sat in his chair, waiting.

Right as the last person (besides the two of them) had stepped out the door, she quickly moved to the front of the room and stood, straight-backed, in front of his desk. 

Ed waited for her to speak as her dark eyes flickered to the papers on his desk, then his hands, then finally focusing on the wall a bit to his left.

“Professor Elric, I’m- I have to- I apologize for the earlier outburst and the distraction I caused. It won’t happen again, swear. I mean- I sw- I promise, sir.” As she stumbled over her words, her face became pale. 

A flash of movement from her hands caught Ed’s eyes and he watched as, on both hands, she began digging the nail of her pointer finger into the pad of her thumb, repeatedly. He could see the large calluses there.

He looked back to her face.

“There’s no need to apologize. It was just a misunderstanding. I wasn’t trying to single you out in any way,” He assured seriously. “You should know that while I don’t intend to treat you any different, you can still ask for my help if you ever need it. I encourage  _ all _ of you to ask for help.”

Mal nodded, closed her eyes, and exhaled slowly. When she opened them again, her eyes met his, and he could tell she was making a conscious effort not to look away. He sighed.

“You don’t have to look me in the eye, Mal. Contrary to the popular belief of parents and teachers everywhere, eye contact is not always the be-all end-all, at least with me,” he said gently.

Mal’s eyes instantly flicked away and she quickly exhaled a relieved, “Thankyousir.”

There was a pause, and her hands became still for a few moments as she adjusted her posture into something less rigid.

“...Are you going to ask?” Mal said hesitantly.

“Ask what?” Ed suspected, but he wanted to be sure he was being completely open.

Her face scrunched up in confusion as she replied, “About my disability. It’s in my student record, I’m sure they gave you the letter… Sir.”

Ed barely managed to stop himself from scowling viciously. He  _ had _ been sent a letter from the college, but he didn’t care at  _ all _ for what it had said. 

The letter, written by a couple of her former teachers, had labelled her as _something of an_ _idiot savant_ and _surprisingly bright, for someone of her condition_. 

They had also advised against Ed accepting her into his class, claiming that despite her brilliance and high grades, she did not represent the  _ best of the student body  _ and that  _ others with a higher chance of success _ would be a more beneficial choice.

Just thinking about it made Ed’s blood  _ boil _ . 

“Oh, they told me, alright- but  _ they _ happen to be full of so much shit, they're choking on it,” he spat out.

Mal looked at him in confusion and alarm again. 

He elaborated, picking his words thoughtfully, “From that essay you wrote the other day, I’d say that you, of all people,  _ deserve _ to be in this classroom. You have both the drive  _ and _ the means to succeed, and that’s all I care about. That’s all that matters. Anyone who tells you otherwise is fucking  _ lying _ \--- and I know that you’ve probably been lied to  _ a lot _ in your lifetime. Yet, you’re still here, in my class, I’d say that makes you pretty fucking badass, because it proves those bastards- and anyone else who said you couldn’t- dead fucking wrong.”

At his words, her eyes went wide. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but closed it again. Her hand came up to cover her mouth, and with an internal jolt, Ed realized there were tears rapidly forming in her eyes.

“Ahhh, shit- don’t- uh, it’s okay-” Ed stammered as he slowly stood up, unsure of what to do with himself.

Mal interrupted, wiping the moisture out of her eyes, “No, it’s okay, I’m fine. I was just- I was just, not expecting- thank you for understanding, sir.”

Ed paused at the sudden change for a moment. Then, a melancholy- but no less warm- smile broke across his face.

“It’s quite literally the  _ least _ I could do… But, you’re welcome, Mal.” He paused and dropped his smile. “...I can call you Mal, right? We never really clarified that,” he added hesitantly.

A shy smile appeared on her face and slowly grew into nothing short of dazzling. Her whole face seemed to glow with it. She sniffed and nodded.

“Well, Mal, I’ve kept you here long enough. I should probably send you on your way,” he said with a renewed grin. “Don’t forget what I said about asking for help- and it doesn’t even have to be related to  _ this _ class, either. As long as it’s  _ mostly _ legal, I can probably help… Just kidding! Fuck the police, the illegal shit is  _ always _ more fun,” he said excitedly.

“Yes, Professor Elric, sir. Thank you,” Mal replied, her wide smile evident in her voice.

As Edward watched her turn and leave, he silently resolved to kill for that smile, if need be.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idiot Savant-(n) a person who is considered to be mentally handicapped but displays brilliance in a specific area, especially one involving memory.
> 
> In my experience, I've heard it (ignorantly) used to describe high-functioning autistic person(s).


End file.
